


Just Go

by Writingwife83



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Episode: s04e03 The Final Problem, F/M, Missing Scene, Prompt Fill, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:55:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26176069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writingwife83/pseuds/Writingwife83
Summary: Dialogue prompt- “I thought you were dead.”
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper
Comments: 12
Kudos: 95
Collections: Wifey’s Sherlolly Prompts, Wifey’s TFP Inspired Fics





	Just Go

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for the prompt, anon! ;)

Molly unlocked her door and stepped inside, instantly wondering why Toby wasn’t pulling his typical escape attempt routine. Normally she had to shove him away with her foot while letting herself in the door.

Once she walked inside though, the answer became obvious.

“God, Sherlock!” she exclaimed, tossing her bag aside as she saw Sherlock sitting on one of the stools at her kitchen counter, a vast array of first aid equipment strewn about. “I thought you were dead.”

“Pff, me? Honestly, Molly, you of all people should know me better than that.”

“You could have been.” She circled around the counter and into the kitchen, putting the kettle on. “John and Mycroft were admitted to Bart’s and they both said they hadn’t seen you after the blast.”

“They insisted on being checked at the hospital, but I’d prefer the expedited version. I’ve got things to arrange and need to do so as quickly as possible.”

Molly halted across the counter from him. “Why? Is this about the explosion? Who was it that blew up 221B?”

Sherlock chuckled, rolling his shirt sleeves down after apparently finishing the first aid. “Quite a lot of questions, Molly. I assure you, in a matter of days I’ll be able to answer them all.”

Molly shook her head, circling the counter again as he stood up. “Sherlock, we talked about this. No more of these dangerous plans all on your own.”

He frowned. “When did we talk about that?

“A week ago. I was at Baker Street…” She hesitated, struggling with how to define babysitting someone so they wouldn’t do drugs. “Overnight.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Anything I agreed to in those moments wasn't likely in my right mind.” 

Molly refused to be swayed. “I told you not to try anything like that again. I told you to come to me, didn’t I?”

“This is different.”

“Oh right, so I’m sure there’s no risk involved.”

“There  _ is _ , yes,” he conceded. “Which is why I’ll answer your questions when this is all done and taken care of. Besides, I don’t think you’d be of use in this particular situation.“

Her heart sank. Why did she ever try to tell herself their dynamic would truly change for the better? Why did she let herself hope? Sherlock Holmes shared what he wanted when he wanted. Period. 

“Molly.” 

She looked up, suddenly realizing he’d stepped closer and softened his voice. 

“Please understand that this does not change what I’ve told you before- I do trust you.”

There was a time those words had been a heartwarming revelation. They’d meant everything to her, and of course in a way they still did. But the smile Molly gave him then was sad, and she could feel her eyes starting to prickle. 

“I know you do, Sherlock,” she whispered. “Of course you trust me. Why shouldn’t you? I’ve always been there, and I’ve always been open and honest with you. I don’t hold back, do I?” She laughed humorlessly. “We both know I wear my bloody heart on my sleeve.”

She paused, holding his now solemn gaze. 

“But have you ever stopped to ask yourself if  _ I _ trust  _ you _ ? Because I  _ wish _ I could say I did.” 

For a moment. Molly almost didn’t hear the kettle screaming. The sadness in the eyes of the man she loved held her captive, especially knowing she’d been the cause of it. 

In the same moment that she was struck with being able to move him so deeply, she hated herself for doing so. 

Molly rushed over to the kettle and shut the burner off, able to hide the quivering of her lips and the tears beginning to cloud her vision. 

“Molly, I-“

“Just go, Sherlock. Whatever you have to do, you may as well get it done,” she said with a little sniff. 

“Look, Molly-“

“Sherlock, it’s fine, just go!”

She waited until she heard his footsteps, and by the time she turned around he was halfway out her door. Sherlock caught her eye for just a moment before disappearing, and she could have sworn she saw regret. 

Or perhaps her own emotions were simply reflecting right back at her. 


End file.
